I was too busy yesterday partying for Jane Austen's birthday (a birthday day that gets shared with yours truly, helloooooo twenty-three! Hahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaa, twenty-three, that's funny!) to get it posted, so here it is! Day 4's is right behind it, so hold on to your knickers!
Chapter 11 - Dinner and Drinks
Cason wasn’t one hundred percent sure on why he had agreed to go out with the woman from Sophie’s work. She’d been nice and incredibly easy on the eyes. He was sure her black hair wasn’t her real color but her doe eyes and equally wide rack on her tight body had made him think it couldn’t be all that bad.
She seemed nice.
He could use nice. He thought again as he looked across the table at her in the Italian place she’d picked out. She’d kept her tight red shirt but changed the white jeans for a black skirt that made him think he was in deep shit. He was out of practice for all of it, especially for what she was advertising that she wanted later. A poorly placed piece of shrapnel in his hip made sure all his favorite bedroom moves were like fucking with a knife in his joint.
He was no good with small talk but was glad that Casey was an expert. Cason stabbed his fork into his massive dish of maranara’d noodles and meatballs.
“It was so brave of you Cason, to rescue Sophie like you did. You’re a real hero.” She said taking a gentle poke at her green salad.
“Rescue?” he said before sliding food into his mouth.
“Yes, you must have some strong heroic gene in you. I heard through the grapevine that you’re to be honored at some award ceremony coming up.”
He just nodded food in his mouth, “Mmmmm.”
“What was it like over there? I can see in your eyes a darkness that—”
He held up his hand, “Sorry. Not to be rude, you’re a nice woman Casey. What do you say that the past stays out of the conversation and we stick to what we do now?”
Her blue doe eyes got larger, “Oh my. I know it must be hard for you, absolutely I’ll not say anything more on your time there. When you’re ready to talk—”
“You said you work with Sophie? How do you like your job, what do you do?” he said moving solidly off the topic of him. His dinner going tasteless in his mouth.
This was a bad idea, he thought.
She smiled, her lips pursing, “So, I’m an interior designer. I work closely with Sophie on all the big projects, I’m that well sought after.”
“You’re an assistant to Sophie?”
She stabbed at a tomato, “No, Sophie has her own projects and I have mine. She sometimes needs my input on things. Anyway,” She said waving her fork as if to clear the air with it. “Enough about Sophie. When I’m not at work, I’m working this body.” She said and winked. “I do a pole dancing cardio class three times a week and an erotic dance session twice a week.”
“So you like to work out?”
“Something like that.” She said and tucked her chin smiling up at him through her lashes.
Cason looked up when she didn’t continue talking, “You OK?”
“I bet you like a good workout.” She said leaning forward, letting the scoop neck of her shirt come open.
Cason kept his eyes averted from the forced peep show in front of him. Instead he focused on answering her question, “A good workout? My work is pretty physical. You could say it’s where I work—”
“What do you do?” she asked breathlessly.
Cason put the last of his spaghetti in his mouth, buying time. He looked up at her again and thought of what to say in response that didn’t seem sexy. It felt like he could say “Shoveling shit.” And she’d orgasm on the spot. It was too easy. He preferred the Sophie Sparling method of real debate, the banter and good natured verbal ass kicking. Cason said “concrete” absentmindedly and Casey started talking again, something about how hot that was and if he ever had to bend over or took his shirt off. He just grunted the affirmative and thought on Sophie. She’d probably give him hell for taking her coworker out, but he supposed that was why he did it.
For the rest of the meal Cason tried to focus on what she was saying and not to think too hard on Sophie. Or the fact that she’d just tazed a guy earlier that day and would probably need to be with someone that night. Instead he was sitting with Casey.
The dessert menu’s came and Cason was about to politely excuse himself from the rest of the date and take her home. The date had been a bad idea.
Just then he felt Casey’s foot slid up the side of his leg, “Let’s get dessert at my place, what do you say?”
Her foot up his leg caught him off guard. “I—”
“Great, let’s go.”
Cason paid while she got her coat and knew it was futile to explain that he’d just be dropping her back off at her home. So he followed her out of the restaurant walking her to his truck. He held the door open for her while she talked, he wasn’t sure what she was saying. His mind kept going to the metal in his hip. He’d kept the limp out of his step as much as possible, but it was starting to grind.
He smiled at her when she got in and nodded as he drove her back to her place. Halfway there he forgot about his hip.
Casey laid her hand on his thigh and squeezed.
Cason looked down then over to her in surprise.
“Maybe you should drive a little faster, I’m not sure how long I can hold out.” She said sliding her hand higher, then boldly cupped him.
Cason nearly ran a stop sign when she did.
“Ooh,” she said, “Did I surprise you?”
Cason was speechless, he couldn’t drive, listen to her, get fondled and speak all at once. Instead he grabbed her hand and gently set it aside. “Can’t do more than one thing at a time when you do that.”
She giggled and said, “OK.” As he internally grimaced.
Casey’s home was in the north part of town, in a small apartment complex. They parked and he helped her out and walked her to her door. “Thank you for a nice night Casey.”
Casey looked over her shoulder at him as she unlocked her door and opened it. She gave him a smile that Cason recognized as a come-hither look.
“Tsk-tsk Cason, it sounds like you don’t want to come in with me.”
“I think it’s better that we just—”
Casey grabbed his shirt front then and yanked him into her apartment slamming the door shut behind them.
As soon as the door shut she dropped her purse and threw herself at him there in her entry hallway. As she plowed into him, Cason put back his bad leg to catch himself but it gave way. They both hit the wall behind him rattling the acres of photo frames down the side hall.
Casey’s lips were on his and her hand went down the front of Cason’s pants. As soon as her fingers touched him it was as if all the stars in the sky exploded. His mind went blank save for the sharp pain in his hip. The feeling of pleasure and pain blended together into a toxic cocktail and he gave in.
Cason grabbed her narrow hips and yanked her in against him trapping her hand between them. With his other hand he wove it up into her long ponytail and wrapping it around his wrist crushed her mouth to his. As he gave into the rush of feeling and pain the thought of Sophie wound up from his subconscious.
In a split second his mind had her in his arms, her lips against his and he groaned. Cason’s chest tightened and as he deepened the kiss he needed more. Physically more.
Pushing off he slammed Casey back against the opposite hall wall and pressed his aching body against her. They gasped for air and found each other’s lips again. Cason opened his mouth and devoured Sophie, his eyes closed, seeing her clearly in his mind’s eye. She wore a tight shirt as well and as his hand traveled down to her breast he felt her respond.
She pulled her hand from his pant front and undid the top button of his jeans.
Yes, his mind said. Cason pressed against her harder, wanting to meld his body desperately with hers.
Sophie groaned in pain then, but the voice wasn’t hers. Neither was the voice hers when she pulled back from their kiss and pushed him back saying, “Ouch.”
Cason took a deep breath and opened his eyes, the heat still lingering in his belly. The woman pinned against the wall had wide blue eyes and long black hair.
The realization of what happened was like ice water down his spine.
“Oh.” Was all he could say.
“Yeah, that was a little rough for me… Maybe we can go a little softer? Maybe a little couch time?” she said her lips red and roughed up.
He shook his head as if to clear it and stepped back, “Sorry. I.”
She gave him a weak smile in her dimly lit hallway, “We can also just watch a movie. I don’t actually have dessert. Well, I do but we’re supposed to wear it, whipped cream and fudge sauce.”
Cason barely heard her through his own mortification that he’d conjured up Sophie so realistically that he’d nearly had sex with this woman because of it.
“I have to go.” Was all he managed before striding from the apartment.
“Shit!” Cason said slamming the palm of his hand against the steering wheel of his truck. Having a one night stand was one thing, sleeping with her because he thought she’d been Sophie was another thing entirely. Then having it be her coworker just rubbed salt into the wound.
Cason started up his truck and drove off. Not back to Sophie’s mother’s house, or to Sophie’s house, but just drove. He needed out, needed to get away. The ethics of his pride were nearly shattered. But most of all, his lack of control scared him, he thought that part of Sophie that he held on so tightly to, once long ago, had gone. He thought he’d extinguished it with the promise to her brother.
He drove on through the dark until the weeping trees of the Heights came into view. He used to wander under a grove of them behind his mother’s trailer growing up. They’d reminded Cason then, and still did of green rain. The trees, were like old grizzled men that held silent and simply nodded at the human problems Cason, as a child, used to bring to them. Now, they held the power to restore calm.
Cason pulled off to the side of the road and parked. He sat for a long time just watching the evening breeze move the hanging moss. Watched intently shutting out all other thoughts, as the moss seemed to gracefully move in a slow dance in the air.
Houses behind the tree-lined walks were stately and silent. The area had been settled in the 1700’s and the area’s first homes were built there. Many of them needed work and in the southern humidity the work was constant. The kind of work that kept mischief at bay and the mind at ease, Cason thought.
The concrete sidewalks, he noticed in the soft sulfuric light of the street lamps, had begun to buckle under the tree roots.
He slipped out of his truck quietly and went around the front and up onto the sidewalk. He needed fresh air and the anonymity of that neighborhood to walk out what had just happened. As he stepped up onto the broken walk he saw it then.
It was a swinging for sale sign in the front of a boggy green lawn and shuttered two story colonial.